


Feelings

by Wyndewalker



Series: Karaoke [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyndewalker/pseuds/Wyndewalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lorne decides he seriously needs a sign saying superheroes and do-gooders are not welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> This was totally inspired by mmooch's comment on Indra Leigh's livejournal post What's Her Secret Weapon? Sort of uses the Nolan verse as canon but isn't necessarily specific to that one universe.

Lorne clapped along with everyone else as the Nirdex demon finished his rendition of Be My Baby Tonight by John Michael Montgomery. Chuck, the Nirdex, had a delightful baritone and he'd had the place rocking with the fast paced country song. A minute late Chuck joined him at his table.

"So?" He asked nervously, resting all four of his thin blue arms on the table. "What did you see?"

"Relax, Tex. Mernala is going to say yes. The rest of the family is going to be a bit standoffish but you know Liatens tend to be insular. My recommendation is to bring Dad a live goat and Mom a bottle of Glenlivet. The older the better and whatever you do, do not bring her flowers. It does not end well at all.”

“Live Goat, Glenlivet, and absolutely no flowers. Not even Roses?”

Lorne frowned. “No. No flowers unless you want Mom to hate you forever.”

“Okay. Okay, got it. Thanks, man!” Chuck beamed looking like he was an inch from hugging Lorne but thought better off it before hurrying away. Lorne let out a sigh, holding up his empty glass. It would be a lovely ceremony if Chuck could just remember the flowers thing. Mario, the current bartender, removed Lorne’s glass from his hand and replaced it with another as he leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Huh,” Lorne grunted. “Did they make sure he knows the no violence rule?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, as long as he’s willing to abide by the rules then send him up there. He wants a reading I’ll give him one.”

“Yes, sir.”

This was going to be interesting. A couple minutes later a man wearing black latex body armor, a cape, and a mask with pointed ears stepped up to the microphone. His voice was a low growl when he spoke.

“My name,” he paused to frown at the crowd who was staring back at him in disbelief, “my name is Batman and I’ll be singing Feelings by Albert Morris.”

The music started and what followed was… Well, Lorne couldn’t even begin to think of how to describe it. It was the most deadpan, monotone rendition of a song he’d ever heard. The caped crusader might as well be reciting the words but there was just enough for it to be considered singing which allowed Lorne to get a reading. He wasn’t sure which horrified him more - the reading or the singing. He was going to need a stronger drink. Even Angel singing was better than this and that was horrifying all on its own. At least Angel was enthusiastic even if he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.

Eventually the torture ended and the Dark Knight stalked off the stage to a smattering of polite claps. Reaching Lorne’s table, he loomed over the green-skinned demon who didn’t even bother looking up from his fourth drink.

“Well?” He growled.

Lorne let out a short mirthless laugh. “I seriously need to put up a sign that says superheroes and do-gooders are not welcome here. There are a lot of possibilities in your future, some of which make no sense whatsoever or totally contradict each other. What I can tell you, Bats, is there’s a lot of pain. My recommendation is find a successor now, because I know you won’t just leave Gotham, but find one now and get out and you might live to see a ripe old age with most of your joints intact. Or you can wait a few years, a lot of miles, a lot of pain and torture, then find your successor and you’ll make it 60, maybe 70 before the body just gives up. Don’t find a successor and I give you ten years tops.”

Batman was silent for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

A swirl of cape and smoke and he was gone.

“Drama queen,” Lorne muttered burying his face in his arm on the table while holding up his empty glass again.

Finis


End file.
